Chapter 462: In Honor of Knight Oara
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 462: In Honor of Knight Oara
Roman stared at his fist when he heard that an envoy was arriving from the royal palace.
It was a large, solid hand, crisscrossed with scars.
I probably shouldn't punch the royal messenger, right?
The answer went without saying. And yet, he couldn't help but ponder it.
Are you loyal to Naurilia?
If danger comes, will you fight for the royal family?
If anyone asked him those questions, Roman would nod without a second thought.
But if they added, "If you see a noble who rubs you the wrong way, will you beat them to death?" he would nod twice as fast.
An oath of loyalty was only meaningful if it came from the heart, but...
Honestly, I’d prefer it if they just gave me the right of summary execution over the nobility.
Back when he lived in the royal palace as a member of the knight order, Roman had often harbored such dark thoughts. After all, the palace was crawling with bastards who couldn't open their mouths without spewing utter nonsense.
Oara was dead.
His master had departed this world.
Her body showed no signs of decay, even in this damp weather. Grief and mourning—such things only mattered to the people of this city.
But what about the messenger sent by the royal family?
The palace had dispatched someone the moment the news reached them. It was an incredibly swift response.
Was it natural? Of course it was. A knight of the order had died, after all. One of the kingdom's pillars had fallen.
Since they couldn't know everything that had transpired here, they would be nursing a massive headache, worrying about everything from the loss of their deterrent against the Demon Realm to their political standing.
They must have a mountain of worries.
That was why the royal messenger had arrived even before a coffin carved from cedarwood could be delivered. He would demand answers. He would ask why a knight died here. He would lay blame, questioning if there was any reason to fight such a battle in this place.
Disgusting noble bastards.
Roman clenched his fists until the veins bulged on the backs of his hands. He would endure it if he could. If at all possible.
But what if he couldn't? He had heard that one of the men under Encrid was nicknamed the "Noble Hunter." Rumors were rife that the man had killed a noble who was acting out of line.
Roman thought he might just steal that nickname for himself today.
Today was the funeral of Knight Oara, his master.
"Phew."
Roman let out a long sigh and stepped outside.
Whoosh.
Even though it was daytime, torches were lit all over the stands because of the thick fog blanketing the city. Normally, monsters would run rampant on days like this. Such days often repeated themselves the morning after the Twin Red Moons rose, as the monsters, drunk on their slaughterous instincts, would go wild.
But not this time.
"There are no signs of movement."
The scouts had been diligently patrolling since dawn and confirmed that the Demon Realm was quiet. It was just as his master had said.
The Demon Realm was silent.
The monster serving as the core of the Demon Realm was dead. The realm itself had exhausted its strength. Now, that place was nothing more than a mere cluster of colonies.
The Demon Realm Gray Forest—Oara had wanted to put an end to it.
A knight is a disaster.
They were called that because they possessed such overwhelming martial power. Even with power deemed a disaster, closing a Demon Realm was a monumental task. Yet, Oara had ultimately achieved it.
Do they even know? What Master has done for this city? How much this city loved her?
If the bastard from the royal family dared to belittle his master's achievements, Roman would cease to be an Associate Knight of the Red Cloak Knights and become a common thug once more.
Respect her. Please.
His turbulent emotions made him clench his fists tighter. It seemed wiser to leave his weapons behind, so Roman did just that. He left his blades in his quarters.
A knight might have been called a disaster by some, but to Roman, she was a stroke of fortune. Traces of her remained all over the city.
"Hey, a big, healthy guy like you—do you really want to spend your life extorting coins from prostitutes?"
"What did you say? You wanna die?"
It was back when he had first arrived in Thousand Bricks as a soldier. He had judged her by her cover and picked a fight, only to be beaten until he saw stars in broad daylight.
"You need some discipline. Follow me!"
At some point, Roman had fallen for Oara. It wasn't romantic; it was pure, unadulterated respect. If not for her, he might have ended his life as a pathetic thug groveling in the back alleys, or perhaps as the master of some criminal guild.
That was who he had been.
Without anyone formally hosting the funeral, all the citizens of the city gathered. It was a city with almost no children, women, or elderly—a city that resembled a massive military barracks.
Oara had loved this city, but she had pitied it just as much.
"If only that Demon Realm weren't there, wouldn't people laugh and talk more? I want to hear the laughter of children in this city."
That was Oara's dream. And she would achieve it. Even in death, she had not given up, ultimately laying the foundation for its realization. He would erase and clear away whatever remained of the Demon Realm. Then, children would laugh in this city, too.
Roman had shared these thoughts in detail with his friend, Encrid. Encrid was the type to listen quietly and nod. No, just having him listen was a source of comfort. He was a truly strange fellow. Before anyone knew it, he had seeped into the city and stood by their master at her end.
The platform in the center of the city came into view. Someone stepped up onto it. It must be the man from the palace. His face was unfamiliar—not a face Roman knew.
Well, of course. It's not like I know any nobles.
The man stood on the platform without even a cloak. No armor, either. The clothes he wore had the elegant, high-quality look of a noble, but dust was piled in his hair, and white salt stains from dried sweat were visible on his garments.
The man stood atop the platform and looked out at the crowd. To Roman's eyes, every single action the man took carried immense weight. He looked at the crowd, drawing everyone's gaze to himself.
Before he had even attempted any grand gestures or spoken a word—simply by looking—he commanded the space. The atmosphere, the gazes, and the very flow of the air seemed to be sucked toward the platform.
"I ask for your forgiveness."
The man spoke. Before introducing himself, he spoke of forgiveness.
"I am deeply grateful for Sir Oara's hard work, but I cannot say I am without blame for her death."
He was not crying, yet he looked as though he were. Out of what regret? For losing a knight? No, it wasn't that. He looked as though he were feeling genuine sorrow.
Or so Roman thought.
The man's expression did not change. Standing there quietly, he spoke with his eyes and his breath.
I am sorry.
I feel so guilty because I could do nothing for the one who protected this land.
Who was this man to act so presumptuously? A sudden surge of anger flared within Roman. It wasn't easy to control his emotions. Just as he was about to shout something, the man on the platform spoke again.
"My name is Kudianat Landius Nauril—the name of the man you should resent and curse."
What?
Roman widened his eyes and stared at the platform, wondering what the hell this man was talking about.
"Since Sir Oara's dream was to protect this city, I, too, shall make an oath. Until the nation of Naurilia falls—or even if it does—I will protect this land and this city."
The royal family had sent someone. And that person had sworn to protect the city. That person had shown genuine grief over Sir Oara's death.
And he didn't just speak of their master. He knew every single fallen soldier. He recited their names.
Roman had heard that after the civil war ended, the newly crowned king had done such a thing. The King had done it again. The moment he heard the news, he had ridden day and night to get here. Standing on the platform with a body that looked ready to collapse at any moment, he spoke of sorrow and made his oath.
"You may throw stones at me."
There was once a knight who loved this city. That knight had protected the city to the very end. And the King, who should have protected that knight, was now saying that their resentment should be directed at him.
Even if this was a lie...
Roman thought, tears streaming down his face. Protecting this city was ultimately protecting the kingdom. By protecting the city, Oara had kept her loyalty to the royal family.
Roman would do the same. If it were for a king like him. Because he would protect the city in Oara's stead.
Roman raised his head.
The fog was lifting. The Twin Red Moons, the Red Moon, and Darpia had set, and the rising sunlight shattered the gloom. The gray fog rolling in from the Demon Realm Gray Forest dissipated, and sunlight rushed in like a wave.
The surging wave of sunlight paused, brightly illuminating the world. It shone upon the King, shone upon the people, and enveloped the deceased Oara. Amidst the sunlight, the blonde King looked out at everyone.
"Salute Knight Oara!"
The King offered a military salute.
*
Krang spoke as he stepped down from the platform. Behind him, in a corner of the stage, Encrid quietly listened to his words.
"Did I arrive just in time? Or was I late? Or should I blame my past ignorance, which left me unable to do anything for the knight who protected this land?"
Political stance, standing, the power of the royal family—he hadn't taken these steps out of calculation. He had come to comfort those grieving the death of another. If cynical advice was what was needed, Krang could have offered that.
But he didn't. Instead, he stood on the platform and poured his heart into a speech that was barely a speech.
They say that shared sorrow is halved. Krang had taken the grief of the entire city and divided it among them.
Oara was dead. But no one would ever forget her name.
"From this day forth, this city shall be named Oara."
The King spoke and stepped down from the platform.
"I'm exhausted."
Only then did Krang speak in a whining tone, looking specifically at Encrid. Encrid, who had been watching, chided the King.
"You should have at least brought a cedarwood coffin."
"I suppose so."
Then again, if he had stopped to think, he wouldn't have rushed here like this. The complexions of his guards didn't look particularly comfortable either.
"Ha. Damn monsters, damn Demon Realm."
Krang spoke as he looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes without even flinching at the pouring sunlight. With his eyes closed, he continued.
"I will erase the Demon Realm. Even if it takes my entire life. This land is my responsibility, and it is my country. A knight died on my land. So, I will erase every last Demon Realm."
Encrid could feel the Will—a Will steeped in determination and conviction. Krang's words carried resolve. It was just like when they had first met in the medical tent. His manner of speaking, his gaze, his gestures—everything flowed as if destined. Like the sun rising and setting, and the moon taking its place.
Krang spoke with all his heart. Encrid heard him clearly. He perceived it. He read the resolve contained within his words. It was still just a single statement, spoken neither too fast nor too slow, but he would do it.
He would erase the Demon Realm. For that, this King would burn the flame he possessed.
Once again, a vision appeared. Knights, Associate Knights, squires, soldiers—all of them raising their swords for a single King. They would swing their swords and thrust their spears toward the monsters, toward the King's enemies.
The King would bear the responsibility and set the course. The knights would clear the obstacles lying on that path. That was what each had to do in their respective positions.
"My sword will be there with you," Encrid replied.
"Those are welcome words indeed. Let's walk a bit."
Krang quickly returned to his usual self. His lighthearted attitude was no different from when they had first met in the medical tent.
"You look like you're about to collapse while walking."
"If I do, you can support me."
"Why should I, when you have your guards?"
"Fair point."
He offered a faint smile along with the trivial joke. Encrid laughed and walked alongside him.
The day that has passed will not return. And the dead will not return either. It amounted to the same thing.
Was this the best? Was there no better path?
Such thoughts might have lingered, but Encrid shook them off. There was nothing more foolish than regretting the past and imagining that the untaken path would have been better, believing that a superior choice existed. Such agonizing and regret were more dangerous than any curse.
If he had lived with such a burden on his heart, he would never have made it this far. So, he shook it off and walked, commemorating the day that had passed and honoring the dead.
Just because he had moved past it did not mean he had forgotten. It would likely remain with him forever, until the day he died.
In that case, was Oara truly dead? Her physical body was dead, but her spirit would be carried on by the city of Oara. And at the forefront of that...
Though he didn't know why the guy was crying again, that bandit-looking fellow, Roman, would stand. It wasn't a prophecy, but he just had a feeling.
And Roman wasn't the only one crying. The grief Krang had shared made the entire city weep. Those who had been too sorrowful to even shed tears were now weeping.
If their tears were to carry on Oara's spirit...
I will carry on a part of your techniques, Sir Oara.
In other words, her spirit, her techniques, her will—such things would remain and be passed down. Though dead, she would not truly die, continuing to protect this land.
With this, it could be said that Knight Oara had upheld her will and conviction.
With those thoughts, Encrid walked, his footsteps making a steady, rhythmic sound. Beside him, Krang walked along, with the guards following closely behind. Then, Luagarne came up on Krang's opposite side, flanking Encrid as they walked.
"I asked you to help me with my work once your contract with the former Queen ended, yet here you are, Luagarne?" Krang leaned his head forward and spoke.
Luagarne puffed out her cheeks with a croaking laugh and replied, "Because my interest lies with this one, not that one."
Luagarne spoke, sticking out her tongue to point at Encrid. Even though she stuck her tongue out mid-sentence, her pronunciation was perfectly clear. It was quite a talent.
"I thought you said you were interested in my face?"
"Having a weakness for handsome faces is an unavoidable trait of the Frok race, but that didn't mean I was going to make a contract with you."
"I know. I'm just disappointed."
Croak, croak.
Luagarne merely laughed. It seemed Krang was also to her liking, as she looked delighted just by staring at his face.
Encrid and Krang walked through the fragmented shafts of sunlight. No particularly significant words were exchanged. The future, politics, the problems arising from the absence of a knight—neither of them gave a damn about such things in this moment.
"So, you killed a ghoul that fought like a knight? You've gotten even stronger."
"It just happened as I went."
"Isn't that a bit too casual to dismiss as 'it just happened'?"
"Of course it is. His speed of comprehension is utterly incomprehensible," Luagarne chimed in from the side. Even to her, replicating a knight's strike in a single try was nothing short of a miracle.
How was such a thing even possible? She asked, but it wasn't as if Encrid had an answer to give.
Various topics drifted by in their conversation. Encrid listened to Krang's stories and shared his own. Mostly, they were trivial matters. Though many of the topics were highly important and secretive in their own right, to the two of them, it was just casual banter.
For instance, it went like this:
"Oh, by the way, I've entered into a holy matrimony."
For a king, producing an heir was also a duty. Krang spoke of his life so calmly. Encrid offered his congratulations.
"I wonder if it's truly something to be congratulated for," Krang joked.
The two laughed.
The problems scattered within the city of Oara were endless. But surely, others could resolve those issues. The two simply passed the buck on those problems and continued their chat.
"What kind of person was Oara?" Krang asked about the hero who had protected the city, whom he had never met.
"She was a radiant person," Encrid replied, searching his memories. "Like sunlight."